dolorous interludes.

I find it extremely difficult to be truthful here- I don’t mean events or people or my sentiments about Love. I mean something closer to my heart, something more elusive to your eyes- me. Simply me. My feelings: my fears, my insecurities, my fatigue, my worries, and mostly, my anger. It is known amongst most, or even all who know me, that I hardly ever get mad. I get irritable, and frustrated- but even then, I don’t like showing it much. I can honestly only think of one person whom I know intimately that has seen me boiling mad- its reasons I shall not divulge here, but it makes me wonder how little people actually know me, if I even allow them to. I realise I do want people to know me best they can, and as honestly as possible- no pretence, no facades, no fancy schmancy, (because age has told me that my tolerance for superficiality has decreased by a mile since 2005 started, on a less than spectacular note too- quite apt I say), but I think it usually takes a lot more time, energy and want, to actually know someone that well. And these days, very few can afford those. I don’t think I actually talked about how I spent my new year’s. it was by the beach, with four other friends, of whom I only knew two personally, and even the two were not very intimate friends, though good ones I know I’d always be able to share a laugh with. But really, I could’ve very well spent my new year’s alone. The company was comforting anyhow, though I felt my heart a thousand shores away. I always told my closest friends that the worst sort of loneliness, is when you’re with people but still feel alone; on top of being plagued by that horrendous feeling, you aren't given the liberty of behaving whichever way you wish. On the contrary, you end up putting on smiles and talking about inconsequential (or not) matters when you’d rather just not talk at all. I used to not want to go out if I didn’t feel like entertaining people- but these days, I’d much rather the company and conversation despite feeling taciturn.

I don’t think I had a point in writing this entry, and if I did have one, I’ve lost it altogether. How our mind works in tracks; loose ideas and thoughts strung together in lines like a housemaid leaving the laundry out to sun on lines, very arbitrarily. Anyhow, I’ve had a rather good weekend (save for Sunday that hasn’t started proper). But one last thought for tonight- my ideal Friday evening? A take home, or even a home cooked meal, good conversation though not necessarily ongoing, a rented movie perhaps, and a jolly card game. And the finale- meatball soup or prata after.

posted by voyeur @ 4/03/2005 03:50:00 AM